The Sorcerer's Legacy (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  Butch stuck his chin out and taunted Joe. “C’mon sheep lover, I’ll let ya get one for free.”

  Joe snapped off a rapid left right combo that snapped Butch’s head back.

  Butch shook his head and glared hatefully at Joe. “Why you no good little pile of sheep dung!” Butch roared and swung a huge right fist at the sheepherder intended to take his head right off with one blow.

  Joe ducked under the powerful but wild swing and delivered three quick blows to Butch’s stomach eliciting a satisfying whoosh of expelled air. Butch swung with his left, Joe blocked it with his right forearm and snapped his head back again with two quick left jabs and a right cross that brought stars to the thug’s eyes.

  The first couple of blows that Joe landed got the tavern crowd murmuring. The last combo had them laughing, which earned them harsh glares from Butch’s friends. Azerick sat on his stool with a knowing smile, sipping a fresh beer cooled with his magic.

  Butch shook his head in an attempt to clear it and came at Joe with more caution. Joe danced on his feet and smiled at Butch who had a rivulet of blood seeping from his nose and swollen lip. Butch tried a couple quick jabs of the same kind that Joe had used so effectively, but the smaller man ducked his head to the side, avoiding each one with ease.

  “What’s the matter, Butch, can’t handle a little sheepherder?” Joe taunted, feeling exceptionally confident now.

  “I’ll kill you, you sheep lovin’ little bastard!” Butch growled and snapped off another quick jab that Joe evaded with ease.

  “You should be grateful to me, Butch; if I weren’t a sheep lover you’d never been born.”

  Butch roared in rage, ducked his head, and charged Joe with his arms spread out intending to wrap the smaller man up and use his weight to take him to the floor. Joe braced his right leg back, bent low at the waist, then snapped his right knee into the Butch’s face as he charged forward, standing him back up straight and in a daze. Joe swung a hard right cross catching Butch in the jaw and continued to follow through with the punch by spinning around and slamming his right elbow into Butch’s nose.

  Blood spattered, bone shattered, and cartilage cracked as the blow destroyed Butch’s nose. The thug’s eyes crossed as he flew backwards, unconscious before he hit the floor. Everyone in the bar, with the exception of Butch’s friends, jumped to their feet and cheered the young sheepherder, several coming over and clapping him on the back and congratulating him on his victory.

  Joe bounded over to where Azerick still sat smiling and sipping his cold beer. “Mister, I don’t know what you done, but I thank you with all my heart. Butch has been terrorizing most of the folks in this town for as long as I can remember.”

  “Just remember one thing, Joe. Butch lost because he was a bully, and as a bully, was weak and a coward at heart. Make sure you don’t go and use your newfound courage and fighting skills to take his place,” Azerick warned the young man.

  “No, sir, I won’t. My pa raised me better’n that, don’t you worry.”

  “Here,” Azerick said as Louis set the glass of gold and silver on the bar next to him. “Take care of that young wife and son you have,” Azerick said and handed the entire glass of coins over to Joe.

  Joe’s eyes went round as Azerick pressed the glass into his hands. “Mister, I can’t take that! None of that money belonged to me.”

  “You did the fighting, Joe, you earned it. Don’t worry, it is not going to beggar me in the least,” Azerick assured him.

  “Thankee, sir! We are all gonna sleep warm this next winter!” Joe exclaimed, enthusiastically shook Azerick’s hand, and ran home to share his good fortune with his wife.

  Azerick smiled and shook his head, amused to be called sir given that he was maybe two years younger than Joe was. Had his hardships aged him so much so prematurely? He certainly felt it but did not realize it showed so much in his face and manner that it was so obvious to others as well.

  “Buddy, I don’t know what ya did for Joe, but folks around here are sure gonna appreciate it. You drink on the house for the rest of your stay, friend,” Louis said with an appreciative smile.

  “I appreciate the offer, Louis, but I prefer to pay for my drinks. I do not want to reject your kind offer, however, so I will take my free drinks but tip for the service. How does that sound?”

  “Suits me fine, far be it from me to refuse another man’s generosity,” Louis returned.

  Butch’s friends were trying to wake up him up. He finally began coming around when one of them dumped half a bucket of water over his face.

  Butch sat up sputtering. “Wha’ happened?”

  “Ya got knocked out, Butch,” one of his friends answered.

  “How’d that happen?”

  “Dunno, Butch, he fought like a demon, he did. Hit ya in the face with his knee and then his elbow and down ya went.”

  Butch took a seat on a chair while his head cleared. “Louis, gimme a shot!”

  “You got coin to pay for it?” Louis asked, knowing Butch spent his last betting on the fight.

  “You know I’m good for it!” Butch shouted at the barkeep.

  “I know you already got a tab run up over thirty silver,” Louis shot back.

  Azerick slid a silver coin across the bar and inclined his head towards Butch. Louis pulled a clay jug out from under the bar and filled a small clear glass with a colorless liquid that looked like water but smelled as if it could strip the tar off a ship’s hull. Butch downed the shot, squeezed his eyes shut, and gasped as the fiery brew ran down into his stomach. When he opened his eyes, they looked clear once more and burned with anger.

  Butch glared over at the sorcerer and saw him wearing a wry grin as he sipped his beer.

  “You did this! I don’t know what ya done but it’s your fault!” Butch yelled.

  “I beg your pardon?” Azerick replied and turned towards the man.

  “You done somethin’. You cheated! That’s what it is, you cheated somehow!”

  Azerick shrugged his shoulders. “I do not recall any rules being stipulated or inferred, so I fail to see how I could have cheated.”

  “It don’t matter! I call ya cheat and you owe me that gold!” Butch insisted.

  “Butch, are you saying that having lost to the student, you now wish to challenge the master?” Azerick asked in a low warning.

  Butch looked at the young man sitting casually on the barstool then glanced back at his friends.

  “C’mon boys, let’s teach this boyo what we do to cheats,” Butch said and pulled a dagger out from behind his back.

  Butch’s two friends pulled worn blades and advanced on Azerick. Malek began to stand up from his seat to intervene in the apparently one-sided fight, but Maude laid a restraining hand on his arm and shook her head. Azerick continued to sit at ease on his stool but was mumbling the words to a spell and making unseen hand gestures between his legs.

  Butch lunged forward, blade extended in front of him. Azerick casually grabbed the wrist with his left hand and pulled the arm out wide, jumped up from his seat, and slammed his open palm into Butch’s chest with a shout. Butch felt as if he had just been kicked in the chest by a team of horses as he flew back over a dozen feet and slammed into the wall. He would have slumped down to the floor but an invisible force seemed to be holding him up and pressing him against the wall.

  “Don’t just stand there, you idiots, kill that bastard!” Butch roared in pain and fear.

  “I am afraid they cannot help you, Butch. Can you, boys?” Azerick asked as he picked up Butch’s fallen blade and traced its tip along the jaw line of one of Butch’s seemingly frozen friends.

  The man sweated profusely as he watched the blade outline his jaw and slide down to his throat, soft as a feather. Azerick calmly walked over to where Butch was pinned against the wall and slipped his knife back into the front of his trousers, heedless of any accidental injuries that he may cause.

  Butch’s eye bulged as the blade was jammed into the band o
f his trousers, nearly cutting him in a most sensitive area.

  “I knew you cheated. You magic’d the boy so he could beat me,” Butch said nervously, still maintaining his belligerence.

  “Perhaps, but if I could do that with a young sheepherder, imagine what I can do on my own,” Azerick said menacingly, standing very close to Butch’s face.

  Azerick took a couple paces back from the helpless man, released his spell, and let Butch fall to the ground. Butch quickly stood back up.

  “I’ll get you for this! You better watch your back because I’m gonna make you pay!” Butch shouted and stormed out of the tavern.

  Azerick turned around and saw the other two men still rigidly standing where he had left them.

  “Are you two still here?” Azerick asked and released the spell on them.

  The moment the men felt themselves freed, they turned and bolted out of the door after Butch. Azerick sat back on his stool and returned to sipping his beer.

  “Mister, you obviously got some power to you but I would still watch my back. Butch has got a terrible temper and a streak of vengeance a mile long,” Louis cautioned the sorcerer.

  Azerick just nodded, unconcerned with the town tough. Maude stood up from her chair and walked up to the bar next to Azerick.

  “Mind if I buy you a drink?” Maude asked.

  Azerick glanced her way and looked back forward. “I already have one, besides, I do not date men.”

  Maude’s face turned crimson. “I was not asking you for a date nor am I a man,” Maude corrected him through clamped teeth.

  Azerick turned towards the big warrior woman and grinned. “I know. I apologize; I am in an ill sort of humor lately. What can I do for you?”

  Maude’s face returned to a more natural color. “My name’s Maude, those two over there are my friends. We run a small adventuring company and I think we have a place that you could fill quite well.”

  Maude’s face flushed once more as Azerick smiled pointedly at what she just said.

  “Sorry, bad humor again. I am not an adventurer, Maude. No thank you.”

  “We are on a mission from the king. If you were to help us, I am certain you would gain considerable royal favor and a sizable reward,” Maude continued.

  “I am afraid I am not much of a patriot and I have no need of more gold,” Azerick responded, flatly refusing her offer.

  “Well, we’ll be here for another day or two if you change your mind. If you do change your mind and we aren’t here, King Jarvin and his advisors will likely know where to find us,” Maude told him and returned angrily to her seat.

  “What did he say?” Malek asked once Maude sat back down.

  “Forget him, he’s a complete ass,” Maude answered.

  “He thought you were a man didn’t he?” Borik asked with a grin.

  “Shut up, dwarf!” Maude snarled.

  “I told you that you should let your hair grow out,” Malek said.

  “And shave your mustache!” Borik howled with laughter.

  Maude slapped Borik in the back of his head. “I do not have a mustache!”

  “Look out!” Maude shouted.

  Azerick looked up just in time to see Butch standing just inside the doorway and point a crossbow at him. Azerick muttered a word and made a gesture just as the man pulled the trigger and released its deadly bolt. The grim smile slid from Butch’s face as the broad-headed heavy quarrel stopped just inches from Azerick’s chest. Butch’s eyes opened wide in shock as the bolt reversed its direction as it hovered just in front of the sorcerer.

  Azerick sent the projectile flying back at its owner with such force that the fletching was lost in Butch’s chest and pinned him to the wall. Butch’s two former friends stood just in the doorway looking on in fear and amazement before running off in a panic.

  “Looks like you have a new wall hanging,” Azerick told the stunned barkeep. “I am sorry it is so ugly, I was never much of an artist.”

  The tavern was silent, only Maude and her friends seemed to be unbothered by the events this evening. Several patrons suddenly found they had urgent business elsewhere, but there were still quite a few hardcore drinkers that were not going to let a little fight and death scare them off. If anything, it gave them more reason to drown their worries.

  Ten minutes later, the pounding of several pairs of heavy boots sounded on the wooden walkway outside the tavern and half a dozen armed men marched in. One man stepped hesitantly forward after examining Butch’s corpse hanging on the wall near the entrance.

  The man swallowed and nervously addressed the spell caster that was still sitting on a stool and calmly drinking his beer.

  “Sir, as Captain of the Watch in the town of Sandusk, with the authority to uphold the laws of the kingdom of Valaria as set down by King Jarvin, I am placing you under arrest!”

  Azerick turned and looked at the man. The Captain was a young man, perhaps twenty-five years old, handsome with an honest face; the kind that probably had nearly every woman in Sandusk crooning at the sight of him in his official city watch armor and uniform.

  “On what charge, Captain?” Azerick asked indifferently.

  “For the murder of that man hanging on the wall over there,” the captain replied in disbelief.

  Azerick turned back around in his stool and faced the bar. “It would seem you have a slight problem in that regard, Captain.”

  “What problem is that?” the Captain asked, his raw nerves evident in his voice.

  “I do not much feel like being arrested right now, so go away and play toy soldiers somewhere else.”

  “Sir, if you do not come peacefully I will be forced to arrest you by force of arms,” the Captain warned, his voice breaking in fear.

  “And you would die if you tried. Do you really wish to die tonight, Captain? Do your men?”

  “Sir, please come along. From what I have heard and what I see here, I know that you are powerful with magic and that my men and I may have little chance of forcing an arrest upon you. But, I am the law of Sandusk and I am duty bound to uphold those laws even at a risk of my own life. So please, come peacefully or I will use whatever force I can, no matter how futile that may be, to arrest you.”

  Azerick felt bad for threatening the honorable man and about his own moody disposition. “Look, Captain; that man and his two friends pulled steel on me and I sent them running with a lesson and a warning. They chose not to heed that warning and Butch returned with a crossbow and attempted to kill me. In his attempt he died. It is a clear case of self-defense that I am certain will be corroborated by most everyone in this bar. I doubt there is a citizen in Sandusk that would not thank me for ridding them of that man.”

  “It’s true, John, Butch come in here and fired that crossbow right him. It was Butch’s fault he chose the wrong man to try to kill and I’m glad he’s dead even if he did die with a large bar tab,” Louis told the Captain.

  The watch captain looked from face to face and everyone in the bar nodded his or her agreement.

  “Take that man down from the wall,” the Captain ordered his men. “I pray that you will not be forced to defend yourself in my town again, magus. It may be best if you left as soon as you concluded whatever business you have here.”

  “Do not be concerned, Captain, I am merely passing through,” Azerick replied.

  The watch captain looked at Azerick for a moment as if to say something further then thought better of it and walked away as his men pulled Butch off the wall and carried him out, leaving behind a large red streak of blood that ran into a puddle on the floor.

  Azerick finished his beer in a few quick gulps and left, suddenly eager for the silence and solitude of his room. The few citizens that walked the streets all stared at Azerick as he walked past them, the small town gossip chain having once again proved an efficient news medium. Even the woman that ran the boarding house looked askance at him as he walked through the common sitting room and up to the stairs to his room.

 
; Azerick opened the door using the small iron key he had been given when he rented the room and stepped in, casually swinging the door shut behind him. The room was dark, but enough light came through the window to give the bed, dresser, and small table a distinct if dark silhouette. He had not taken more than two or three steps towards his bed when Azerick heard the faintest squeak of a floorboard just behind him. Azerick leapt forward and spun, just narrowly dodging the attacker’s thrust. Burning pain flared across his side as a blade skipped off his ribs.

  The sorcerer’s mind raced with a burst of adrenalin and in a fraction of a second, understood several things. The shield he had erected when Butch tried to kill him had just saved his life a second time. Had the blade not skipped off the invisible armor it would have pierced his right lung instead of simply opening the large gash in his side. He could already feel the warm blood flowing freely down his side, soaking his damaged shirt and leaving large spatters all over the hardwood floor.

  Azerick also saw that the attacker was about the same size as he was and with a similar build but quicker and stronger. The man wielded the blade in his hand like a trained professional and came at him relentlessly, making it impossible for Azerick to get off a spell. Azerick twisted away and once again narrowly escaped a lethal slash. A second deep cut added its own source of blood to the now thoroughly ruined silk shirt.

  The sorcerer realized how severe the cuts were as he began noticeably fatiguing due to the amount blood loss. The floor was also becoming treacherously slick underfoot with the numerous puddles of blood. The man lunged with his blade, aiming for Azerick’s vulnerable throat. Luck was with him as the assassin’s lead foot slipped in a puddle of Azerick’s blood, causing him to overextend himself.

  Azerick took advantage of the assassin’s momentary loss of balance and grabbed the man’s weapon hand tightly in his grip. His attacker forced Azerick back and pressed him against the far wall, trying to shove the blade against his throat. The sorcerer’s eyes widened in shock as the pale light streaming through the window revealed his attacker’s face. It was a face he knew better than any other—his own.